


The Proper Incentive

by girahimu_sama



Series: Post-Canon Thiefshipping Oneshots [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girahimu_sama/pseuds/girahimu_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakura is ticklish and Marik doesn't let this fact go untouched when needs some sort of advantage over the other. Thiefshipping, post-canon, mild suggestiveness (kind of a given with these two.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proper Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcannon that Bakura is ridiculously ticklish. That's sort of where this fic spawned from. That and I wanted to write something silly and more lighthearted for these idiots, as well as to show how domestic and petty they can be.

“Bakura!”

The thief rolled his eyes when he heard Marik call for him; it was the tone he used when he was about to nag him about something inane. He knew it too well and pointedly ignored the other as a result.

For all the good that did. Marik appeared in the entry way to the kitchen a second later, blazing amethyst trained on him.

“Would it kill you to do the goddamn dishes every once in a while?”

“Yes.” Bakura answered flatly, eyebrows raised at him. Marik threw his hands up in exasperation.

“How hard is it to just rinse a plate when you're done using it?”

Bakura turned his attention back towards the television and rested his cheek in his palm. “I'll do them later. Why does it matter anyway? It's not like they're going anywhere, they'll get washed eventually.”

Marik seemed quite worked up over nothing and it was starting to grate Bakura's nerves. The former tomb keeper continued to rant. “Not the point! I want to use a plate now and I can't because they're all stacked in the sink!”

“So just do them yourself if it matters so much.”

Bakura covered his face as Marik reached over to pluck a pillow from the nearby recliner and sling it at his head. “I always do them, you ass!”

“Yeah, right.” Bakura scoffed, grabbing the pillow and using it as a head rest.

“The last time you bothered was two weeks ago after you lost our game of Duel Monsters.” Marik huffed. Bakura would have found his temper cute if he wasn't being such a prick. “You can't seem to do anything without some sort of incentive from me!”

The thief inwardly smirked as he recalled their little game. It had been more than a round of Duel Monsters. For them these days, the game itself didn't hold much appeal. They still played it every once in a while when they were bored, but when they did they would bet on it to make things more interesting. It wasn't much fun if the stakes weren't high after all.

The last bet Bakura had taken resulted in him having to do anything Marik said without question or complaint, and he had to be nice about it, for a whole day. Marik had taken full advantage of it of course, but Bakura found he actually didn't mind being ordered around by him (not that he'd ever admit it.) It had been annoying at first, but by the end of the day Marik was ordering him to do things much more _enjoyable_ than petty chores.

Snapping back to the present, he shot a glare at Marik. “You are so full of shit.”

“Oh yeah?” Marik leaned on the wall and crossed his arms. “Name the last time you helped out around the house.”

Bakura thought for a moment. On an irregular basis, he _did_ clean if there was nothing else to do and he was really bored, but it was hard to come up with consistent, specific occasions. Still, Marik had no right to look like such a haughty bastard about it because Bakura put in more work than he thought.

“Get a damn maid if you're so concerned with a few dishes being left out.” He grumbled back. Marik's disposition shifted from angry to amused.

“Maybe I should just make _you_ my maid. I don't see you paying any sort of rent.” Marik's eyes narrowed as a dangerous smirk spread across his features. “I could even get you a suitable outfit too, how's that sound?”

Bakura barked a laugh at the idea. Yeah, he was sure that would really get the other male going. “Eat a dick, Ishtar. I'm not here to appeal to your kinks.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To watch some damn TV without you bitching at me.” Bakura grabbed the remote and started flicking through the channels. He threw Marik a deceptively sweet look. “You're free to join if you like.”

Marik didn't reply to that. Instead he shook his head and continued to smirk to himself as if coming to a silent decision. He pushed off of the wall and headed towards the couch Bakura was sprawled over, stepping in front of him and blocking his view of the TV. His smile was still in place, which was odd because he shouldn't have been pleased, and Bakura wasn't sure he liked the glint in his eye.

“Marik...?”

“Mm? What's the matter, 'Kura?” Marik practically purred, leaning over him and trapping him with his presence. The expression on his face was the same one he used when he manipulated people, the kind he wore when he knew what weakness to exploit to get what he wanted out of someone. Bakura practically jumped into a sitting position when he recognized it.

“I know that look and I swear if y–“

Marik lunged for him, wrestling him down on the couch. Bakura managed to roll him off, but Marik dragged them both down and they tumbled to the floor. The former tomb keeper managed to put himself on top, sitting on the thief's lower back and trapping Bakura's arms against his sides. Bakura squirmed desperately as he realized what was coming next.

“No – no!” He cried out even as he laughed when Marik's fingers danced up and down his sides. “Damn you! Damn you!”

“Something wrong?”

Bakura all but screamed when those fingers tickled along his ribcage – why was he cursed with _this_ on top of everything else? It was an unpleasant surprise when Marik had discovered this about him, and it was equally unpleasant now.

“Agh, fucking–!” He thrashed wildly, like a fish out of water, feeling his nerves jolt with each jab of Marik's crafty digits. All pretense of dignity forgotten, he whined – he couldn't help it, this was torture. He kicked his feet at the floor, managing to get his arms free, but Marik only turned him onto his back and pinned him with his knees so he could continue the assault. “You a-asshole! That's low!”

After what felt like forever, Marik withdrew his hands for a moment. Bakura slumped against the floor, panting, a sheen of sweat matting his brow. Marik leaned over him, patting his cheek condescendingly.

“Now, Bakura, are you going to cooperate?”

“Fuck you.” Bakura spat back at him. The fingers returned for another round, making him shriek with involuntary laughter. There was the threat of neighbours coming to knock at their door, considering how loud he was being.

“I asked you a question.”

Bakura's eyes focused on him again, chest heaving as Marik temporarily let him rest. “You've really lost your dastardly touch if that's the best you can do.”

Marik's lips pulled back over his white teeth in a suggestive grin. He trailed a palm down Bakura's middle. “I could make it worse if you want.”

Bakura shivered, eyes darkening a little. Yes, anything beyond tickling he could handle. “I don't think that would qualify as torture anymore.”

“True.”

And then Marik's fingers were back at his midsection, practically stabbing into him and making him wheeze. He could barely breath and his face had no doubt gone red. He managed to wriggle his arms out from under the male atop him, but Marik simply seized his wrists and held them above his head with one hand. It was too easy, Marik had a lot more muscle built up than the thief did. The former tomb keeper hiked Bakura's shirt upwards, using his free hand to tickle the thief's exposed skin.

“Nngh! I can't – hurts!” Bakura gasped, feeling himself beginning to cramp. He couldn't even appreciate the way Marik's pelvis was grinding against his own, nor the compromising new position he'd been put in. “Mercy!”

“Are you going to do the dishes?”

“Ugh, you little–” Bakura tried to hiss back, but fingers circling his navel and teasing his sides made him choke off.

“I can do this all day.” Marik remarked in a bored tone.

“I swear I'll p-puke,” Bakura struggled to say, wishing he could stop the muscles in his stomach from fluttering uncontrollably.

“You'll be cleaning that up too.”

Bakura didn't care. He couldn't take it any longer.

“Fuck! Fine!” He blurted and immediately the fingers retreated. Marik released his wrists, but didn't move off of him. Instead, he shifted his weight against Bakura's groin, prompting a low groan from him, and brushed away stray white strands of hair from his face as though dusting off claimed treasure. Marik leveled his lidded gaze down at him in an unspoken question of 'was that so hard?' before he swept in and actually claimed his lips.

Bakura grumbled as he lay there, dazed and still fighting for his breath back. Somehow it always ended up like this; a stupid argument over nothing, and then them on the floor, trying to get the edge over each other through some means or another. Not that he minded the arrangement.

Marik laced his fingers through Bakura's, not putting in any real effort to hold him down this time. He licked at the seam of Bakura's mouth and the thief responded by giving his lower lip a playful bite. Marik drew back and eyed him intently, and Bakura matched him evenly.

“You know you kind of have to get off of me if you want me to do your servant work,” the thief said, though he was quite content with his position now. Marik snorted.

“Servant work? I could never truly think of you as a servant.” The former tomb keeper moved off of him, that devious glint returning to his eye. “But I think I might want to play cards again after dinner, same terms as last time.”

Marik offered him an assisting hand. Bakura took it and got to his feet, reaching up to smooth the mess of his hair back into place. “Your idea of foreplay is bizarre.”

Marik laughed and slapped him on the ass before wheeling him towards the kitchen.

 


End file.
